Sulphuric
by Nakimochiku
Summary: The demon is not what he expects him to be. France x England Halloween Oneshot, Enjoy.


**Sulphuric**

The demon…. Is not what he expects him to be.

Skin blackened from the fires of hell, tatters of rags for clothes, a fierce hungry expression, maybe even horns sprouting from either side of his head, animalistic in every way. That is a demon. That is what a demon should be. Not…this. Not suave and sensual, skin a pale milky white. Not wearing a smart business suit. Not blowing strands of blonde hair that fall in angelic ringlets around his face out of his eyes.

Not this. Not so painfully human.

His fingers tighten around the stake he holds for good measure, watching the demon watch him. Deep blue eyes glint and flash like a cat's when the headlights of the occasional car zip past, intelligent and quick and watching his every move. Not human though.

The creature he has secured to the chair inside the ring of ancient runes is not human. The hands that clench and unclench in the blessed iron bounds have torn apart countless lives. The mouth that stretches ever wider into a lascivious grin has been drenched in blood. Those blue eyes, narrow in sickening amusement, have glowed demonic red. Not human.

But the mantra does not help.

"I hope we're not going to stay here all night, _mon chou_. You see, I have forever, and you…" He pauses to widen that irksome grin, crossing one leg over the other as though he is comfortable, as though preparing for a very long night ahead, his suit jacket rustling in the quiet air of the abandoned warehouse. "You most certainly do not."

"Shut up!" he snaps, teeth bared in a snarl that only makes the demon chuckle. The sound calls up memories he doesn't want to see, or hear or think of, lurking inside a pit at the bottom of his mind like the monster under a child's bed. The same rich sound from earlier, rolling around him like chocolate melts on the tongue. The scream of a little girl. The dying sputters of his partner. The enraged howl as the demon finally fell into the trap.

So hard won, battles seem, of late.

He growls softly as pain bubbles up from the wound on his neck anew, glaring as the demon watches on. The thing bit him. Before Alfred had a chance to knock him off. Before Alfred got torn apart….the demon bit him. He touches chilled fingers to the burning bite mark, feeling each ridge and dip in the indents of teeth, closing his eyes to push away the sensation of those fangs sinking into him, those fingers wrapped around his shoulders, the knowledge that his life had been sucked away by the very same creature that smiles attractively at him now.

"Felt good, didn't it?" The demon asks softly, head cocked to the side like a curious dog, blonde hair trailing delicately to his shoulder. "Come here, _mon chou_. I'll show you pleasure like that again." For a moment, he can see it, the hungry prowling demon behind the unaffected human façade. For a moment, he can see a spark of need in those blue eyes. For a moment, he feels helpless and weak. It disturbs him to the very marrow of his bones.

"What part of shut up do you not understand?" he wants to break. Wants to stab the demon brutally until he's nothing but splatters of blood on the wall and a mound of festering flesh for the rats to nibble at. Instead, he picks up his book of incantations to find the purification spell, infuriated and sick to his stomach. He flips through well worn pages, green eyes scanning the ancient symbols in the half dark, the hairs on the back of his neck raised and his whole body tense.

"Do not be so stubborn." The demon purrs, the very feel of the sound gently caressing the insides of his ears, tempting the way one was tempted by a midnight treat. "The pleasure would help distract from your guilt, _oui_?" he smiles with a mouth full of fangs, daring him. Daring him to do or say anything to the contrary. Daring him to deny the words that sunk inside him like rocks in a river, heavy with an emotion that clogged in his throat.

Guilt. After laying in wait for the demon for days, trailing behind one mutilated body after another. Guilt. After wanting to break down and cry at the sight of the woman's broken body at the bottom of the stairs, eyes wide open and unforgiving, condemning him. Guilt. After throwing himself at the demon to get him off the little girl, clawing and yelling, only to be slammed against the wall, unable to do anything as he tore into Alfred over and over and over and -

"It was your fault." He whispers, trying to appear casual as he flipped the page, fingers gripping too hard on the frayed binding. The demon blinks coyly at him, smirk small and smug, blue eyes glowing with hidden knowledge, with well placed arrogance. He wants to rip his face off. He wants to cry. He wants to send the son of a bitch straight back to hell. "It's your fault they're dead. You killed them." He tries not to see Alfred's grinning face in his mind, the image of red meat being all that was left of him, coating everything, even his own hands. The little girl, small and limp and lifeless, draped in the corner like a forgotten rag doll. The dozens of other scenes just like the one he tried fruitlessly to stop.

It's not easy being a demon hunter. Not easy.

The demon smiles condescendingly, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment. "This is why you should come here, _mon chou_. Why you should run your fingers through my hair, and kiss me." his voice is like liquid sex, sliding through him, sticking to his very skin, and he shivers, shakes his head to dislodge it. But it's still there, tempting him. "Kiss me."

Something shoots through him with the power of a lightening bolt, and for a heart wrenching moment, he thinks the demon escaped, is behind him, claws to his neck, ready to break him in ways he can't comprehend, one step closer to devouring him, torturing him, bending him. He whips around but the demon is still sitting there, hands still clenching and unclenching, a lazy smirk still tugging his pink lips.

The circle at the demon's feet glows, evidence of the spell he tried unsuccessfully to cast, the fading light making him look ethereal. His eyes, still narrow in mild amusement, reflect only lust, palpable in his every breath, in the very scent of him. His hair brushes his forehead and whispers across his face in the late autumn breeze, expression deviously innocent. Not human. Only demons can gaze at another creature with the intent to swallow them whole, forever achingly hungry. Not human.

The mantra is far from effective.

"I know what you're trying to do." he hisses viciously, his voice slithering through the chilled autumn air. He hopes it's enough to convince the demon, convince himself. A car roars passed the warehouse, and they both ignore it in favour of staring at each other, tempest blue and fairy green. "A tactic like that isn't going to work on me." he sets his jaw when the demon laughs. That same haunting, carnal laugh, digging down somewhere deep in his stomach, rooted there like a weed.

"Won't it?" The demon asks, a pale blonde eyebrow raised in interest, leaning forward as far as he can go. "I'm not like those little girls, or those boys you picked up just to appease Alfred whenever he complained you're too lonely. I won't break easily." Just then, everything about the way the demon holds himself entices him. His legs. His hips. His pale neck. His hair. His mouth. He grits his teeth in irritation, praying for self control, for patience, and strength, hands curled into firsts. "I'm sure I can satisfy you, in that way. All those times you dreamed about asking for someone to do such debauched things to you…" he trails off, and that irritating smirk seems so appealing.

He swallows hard, feeling his face heat in shame, unaware that the runes of the demon sealing circle are burning away, barely able to register the danger for the fire boiling his blood. "How do you know about that?" he snaps with more bite than he intends, hating, adoring that smiling face. Even the moonlight compliments him. Even the way he is tied is disgustingly erotic.

"Blood can tell you a lot of things. Even another's deepest, darkest fantasies." The demon's whole body seems to beckon him closer, and he obeys, wanting. Wanting everything those eyes and those hands and that mouth has to offer. The runes spark and burn as he crosses over them in warning, but he pays them no mind, doesn't even notice. "Kiss me."

He can't help it.

He straddles the demon's legs, pressing their lips together ferociously, fingers fisting in his blonde waves, moaning at the taste of ambrosia as it settled on his tongue, warm and sweet and a deep sort of dirty. Suddenly, he can't get enough, kissing deeper, their tongues tangling, the taste of it intoxicating. He moves deeper, growling low in his chest as the demon kissed him hard, the lust of their kiss burning through him and shattering all coherent thought.

He pulls away just long enough to breathe, imagines that his lips are just as red and swollen as the demon's. Feels something inside him snap and beg for more when the demon swipes his tongue over the swollen flesh. He doesn't resist nipping his lips, earning a smirk.

"Again." The demon whispers, the words brushing his damp lips, and he breathes them in. The second kiss is just as powerful as the first, and he falls into it, sparklers flaring in his chest at the pleasure just a kiss can give him, at the taste of just his mouth, the feel of rough blonde stubble under his fingers, the porcelain skin of the demon's throat. He groans. Their teeth clack, breathing harsh through their noses, the tart taste of demon blood mixing with the ambrosia.

It's not enough. But he wants all that the inhuman creature can give. Wants to drown in it, needs it. Craves it. Demands it. He's not sure what scares him more. That the demon is willing to give him everything, or that he's been so easily bent to his will. He pushes it out of his mind to press kisses to that porcelain throat, met only with dull hums of amusement and approval.

The demon smells like sulphur and lilies and pomegranates, and he buries his nose in the crook of his pale neck to inhale it, drugged on the sweet scent, drugged on everything that the demon is, because it feels so good. Holding the demon in his arms, petting his hair, it takes him a long moment to realize something is not right. His instincts gnaw at him, reminding him constantly that this is not what he does with demons.

Demons are evil soul sucking ghouls, sly and cunning. He kills demons. He kills them because they are not human. Not human. The thing in his arms, warm and breathing with hair like silk and a velvety tongue sliding along his throat, is not human. The thing he holds like he'll die if he lets go, the thing that he rocks against, craving the warmth it provides… it's not human. Not human.

The sensation of lips, sharp fangs, wet tongue on his skin, teasing him, makes the mantra worthless.

"What did you do?" He growls, unable, unwilling to pull away. Wanting more and more and more. Wanting to kiss and touch and be touched and taste and to fuck. Wanting the demon to do to him all those things, all those things that he's dreamed of, that he's been too afraid to ask for. He's under a spell. And he doesn't want it to stop. The demon laughs, that sound igniting something in him. Something he can't hope to deny.

"My hands, _mon chou. _Release them." His hands move, obey the command, even as he fights to deny it, getting only another soft laugh, the sound only making him want more, more of what he can't say, even as he grumbles in irritation. "Blood magic is far stronger than rune magic, I'm afraid. Far older." Those glinting eyes and that fang filled smile make him feel like he's been dumped in cold water, the sensation of fear dripping down his back, every cell in his body screaming at him to flee, and his very soul pleading with him to stay, move closer.

"You bastard." he snarls to mask his feelings, the chains falling away as the last of the runes spark and burst, nothing left of them but an after glow in the air. The fear envelopes him completely as the remnants of his defence evaporates in enchanting sparkles of blue and gold. What will the demon do to him? Tear him apart just like he did to so many others? Suck out his soul and leave him a lifeless husk? Or worse? He tries to stand his ground, tries to look fearless.

The demon stands and brushes himself off, fixing the creases in his suit before piercing him with those cat like eyes. Without the glow of the runes, the pupils dilate before sharpening into crisp thin lines that slice through the blue. He can't back away when strong arms wrap around his waist, pressing another kiss that he can't resist, can't help but want, to his mouth, the taste intoxicating him all over again even as the fear pools, cold, at the bottom of his spine.

"My name is Francis, by the way, Arthur." he winks, flirtatious and smiling like sex personified. "And believe me when I say you will see more of me. Much, much more."

Before he can retaliate, yell, hurl an insult or a stake, the demon blows a kiss, and is gone, leaving just the scent of sulphur and flowers in the air.

_**Owari**_


End file.
